Love, fear and loathing in India: Chronicles of a white female traveller’s adventures across the nation

I read the guidebooks, online articles and blogs ahead of our trip to India and of course there was the good, the bad and the ugly. There always is when you are researching about a country and in particular about solo (female) travel.

I was okay though, as I’d be travelling to India with my boyfriend who’s travelled solo extensively. Feeling prepared, we thought nothing would faze us and that being aware of those ugly stories meant that they could never happen to us. We were probably a bit naive and we soon learnt no amount of research can prepare you for the time when you step off that plane and onto Indian soil.

Even before we left home we knew the trip was going to be memorable. They’re so many fascinating sights to see, our favourite by far was the Golden Temple, there’s a unique culture to get to know and food that tastes so good you want to eat everything, at least twice. We collected so many amazing memories but, as time passes, it’s the annoyances we had to deal with on a daily basis that really stuck in our minds.

Since visiting neighbouring countries we’ve really started to question whether it’s Indian men and their mentality that spoil incredible India for travellers, in particular female travellers.

It started moments after we’d arrived in Delhi. We had been in the city for just four hours when we were scammed by a well-dressed man on the street. We thought he was being friendly and helpful but actually he was sending us to a fake tourist office in the hope we’d be conned into buying an over-priced tour.

A day later a man tried to grab me as we walked out of the New Delhi station. He had no idea that I was with the black man standing next to me and had the cheek to laugh when he was caught in the act and confronted by David.

That was just the beginning! 

Nowhere else I’ve travelled I’ve had to mentally prepare myself for going out for the day. You plan an outfit that won’t attract attention, and you ensure you have sunglasses in an attempt to divert the stares or at least hide some of your face. We’d even assess our moods, if good we might happily pose for the 20 photo requests but if bad anyone trying to take photos of us without permission may have their phone confiscated by us for a few moments in the hope of teaching them a lesson.

Then you take a big deep breath because once you step out of your guesthouse you have no idea what the day will bring. Some people might call that an adventure and some days it was great, like the time we found peace and quiet on an empty beach in Kerala quite by chance, or got ourselves tickets to a T20 cricket game. But there were times that our journey wasn’t very enjoyable.

I do not want to paint all Indian men with the same brush. We met some truly wonderful, kind and fun Indian men during our trip. There were three young photographers who dressed David and I up in turbans and took us along on a spontaneous photoshoot in Amritsar, and the waiter in Khajuraho who kindly took us to his farm between shifts so we could meet his whole family and experience life in his home. These amazing experiences were the exception rather than the rule.

Rajasthan is a State that’s on the beaten tourist track so we weren’t expecting the level of attention we got. It was on a level that we’d not experienced previously in India. The easiest way to explain it is that people could not take their eyes off us. They would stop what they were doing and stare. And stare some more.

We understood, to a point. People in India don’t see many mixed race couples and it goes against what we were told by Indians about the caste system. But it was extremely disconcerting and uncomfortable and no one seemed to realise how it would feel if things were the other way round. It was physically and emotionally draining!

Our lowest, it could never happen to me, moment

It was when we got to Mumbai we hit our lowest moment. We’d been in India three months by this point so we’re pretty hardened by all the daily motions we had to go through.

We were strolling along Colaba Causeway and I felt someone pinch my crotch as they walked past. I was carrying a bottle of water that was half full and smashed it against the man’s hand. David spun around quickly and asked what was wrong. Visibly shaken I mumbled that he had grabbed me, pointing at the offender who was metres ahead of us. David grabbed him, pushed him against a wall and asked him what he was doing. Without getting a response the guy kicked David, managed to get free and ran away faster than Usain Bolt, before speeding away in a taxi.

The strange thing was no one stopped to see what the commotion was about and the men he was with had just deserted him. I’ve never seen David so wound up, he’s not a violent person but he wanted to hold him until the police came so that my attacker would have to face justice.

Reaction

We met some Mumbaikar girlfriends for brunch the next day and relayed what had happened. They weren’t shocked! Their reaction was: “We’re so sorry to hear that, it happens all the time.” We were shocked by their reaction. They were basically saying if you’re a woman walking around one of the most touristy areas in Mumbai you should expect it to happen. That’s the way it is and there’s nothing you can do to change that.

It reminded us of a conversation we’d had in Dharamsala with a young professional from Bengaluru who was up in the mountains on a meditation retreat. She told us she always made sure she was home before it gets dark because she doesn’t feel safe out at night.

What are female travellers supposed to do when the women from the country they are visiting are scared to go outside in the evening? And what is it they’re scared of? It appears to us they’re afraid of what their own countrymen might do to them.

I too excused that moment in Mumbai. Some men don’t seem to realise how instances like these will keep damaging India’s reputation or they simply don’t care. I often grimace when other female travellers ask me about India. I want people to make up their own mind about the country so I try and give a balanced view of our experiences but I know whatever I tell them they’ll remember the bad and the ugly stories over the good.

We spent four-and-a-half months in India and we travelled the length of the country, from Leh in Ladakh all the way down to Varkala in Kerala. It was an emotional rollercoaster ride and, believe it or not, we were really sad to leave. We had learnt to love some of its peculiarities. But for how long will women, locals and travellers alike, walking India’s streets, night or day, live in the fear of being violated?